Smokescreen
by Legginglas
Summary: Oneshot, SLASH. Sam was only tending to Dean's wounds, nothing was supposed to happen, right?... Oh how wrong.


**Title:** Smokescreen  
**Rating:** Hard R  
**Warnings:** I know there are a lot of tense mistakes, but this is just a rough draft, and when I get around to it, I will be re-writing it without those damned tense mistakes that I tend to make ALL of the time. Wincest and lots of cussing, as well.  
**AN:** Just to let y'all know, this takes place BEFORE their father calls (in "Asylum"). It takes place the night before. You know, in the morning how we see Dean's naked chest and Sam's looking at him and then the phone rings? Yeah, this is **before** all that lovely subtext. Sam has mood swings in this fic... I was just re-watching the episode when I got the idea.

---

"Let me look at it," Sam insisted.

"No. I just- just leave me alone." Dean pushed his brother away with little force, unable to sustain his strength.

"I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry!" Sam raised his voice.

"Do you mean that for everything, or just the rock salt? Because you fucking hurt me in more way than one way." Dean stared at Sam like only Dean can; with the intensity that only Dean has.

"I didn't mean to hurt your damn ego. And I didn't mean to shoot you... I didn't mean to come with you either. I should have stayed with Jessica. I should have told her everything. I should have stopped thinking about you..." Sam's voice broke. "Just let me see your damn chest."

Dean took off his shirt and threw it on the motel bed; he did not have the energy to argue with Sam tonight. Sam bent over and ventured to prod Dean's wounds. Dean winced but quickly put up the facade that he was so used to, he felt like he was supposed to be the tough one for his little brother. Although, lately, the facade was more for Dean's sake. He was unable to decipher his own feelings, never mind share them with Sam.

"You know you really **did** hurt me."

"Fuck, I'm SORRY!"

"Dude, calm down. I meant about the", he paused and gestured at his severely bruised chest, "rock salt incident."

"That wasn't my fault... And if you weren't such a dick all of the time I wouldn't have had all of that pent up anger."

At that, Dean gave Sam a look bordering indignancy.

"You didn't forget that you hit **me** twice, right?"

"Don't be such a baby, Sammy. I had to or you were going to shoot me. My own brother," Dean argued, a hint of a smile playing onto his lips.

Sam poked one of Dean's bruises. Hard.

"OW! Dude, what are you doing!"

"When are we gonna talk about how dad wasn't there or how I almost KILLED you. I would have killed you if that gun was loaded. I would have killed you. Don't you get that, Dean!" Sam threw his arms up and ferociously wiped away at the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Look, Sammy," -Sam cut him off before he could continue- "It's Sam, Dean. It's SAM. Goddammit, it's not that fucking hard!"

"I don't know what this is about, _Sam_", at Dean hissing his name, Sam flinched, "But- forget it... Just go to sleep, my chest is fine now."

"I don't sleep anymore, remember?"

"Then don't sleep, but shut the hell up."

"Why are you being such a dick!"

"You know damn well **why** _I'm being such a dick_, Sam." Dean held his tongue before he could say 'Sammy', and in lue of anatomical insults he called Sam a 'pussy' instead.

"No, really, I don't. Why don't you explain with your new found ability; because now you're Communication Man: The Talking Wonder."

Dean looked at his younger brother with contempt, the look he had adopted over the years, "Nevermind."

Sam pushed his brother onto the bed without warning and straddled his legs before he could even protest. He pinned Dean's arms over his head and grabbed the bandages he had put aside earlier and started dressing Dean's wound.

"You're cutting circulation off to the lower half of my body. You done now?" Dean shifted his hips from under his brother, making Sam realize that his brother was hard.

"Not _all_ the circulation seems to be gone."

At this Dean's lips curved up into a half smile. "Well, whenever I'm straddled in the right place, I tend to _like_ it."

Sam wanted this, wanted Dean, wanted sex, wanted to fuck his brother until he couldn't come anymore, until he had that mischievous look off his face; but he shouldn't, oh he knew he shouldn't.

Sam was getting ready to get off, but then decided against it; he was enjoying the feel of his brother's bare chest under the mercy of his fingers too much. He needed this. Sam leaned even further into Dean and kissed him. Dean was already waiting with an open mouth, tauntingly inviting him with blatant sexuality.

They mingled like that for only a moment before Sam switched positions so he could unbutton Dean's pants. They broke away and Sam hastily threw Dean's pants somewhere, _anywhere_ but on Dean. Sam accidentally let a moan escape his lips- amidst their grasping and groping- and realized that betrayed his control over the situation. Replying to the moment, Dean flipped him over onto his stomach and slipped Sam's pants off in one fluid motion. It made Sam wonder if Dean had already done this with other men. After all, Dean was a man of convenience: he seized ANY moment for ANY kind of sexual contact. Dean thrust himself into Sam, bringing Sam reeling back from his thoughts. Sam arched his back, making it easier to buck back onto Dean's dick. Dean thrust into Sam harder each time, making Sam hurdle over emotions he didn't know he had to jump over.

"I don't want you to leave me," Dean rasped, grasping for a concept of a promise in their vulnerable state.

"I know," was all Sam managed to get out.

Dean thrust further in, frustration and sorrow seeping into every part of the movement. Sam's vision blurred, making it harder for him not to voice his arousal. He screamed out to Dean, pleading with him to go softer. Dean reluctantly complied, opting for biting Sam's neck gently in it's stead. Dean's hand twined around Sam's middle, making a slight trail of gooseflesh in his wake. His hand made it's way down Sam's torso, stopping only once when Sam unexpectedly grabbed the back of Dean's head and rammed their lips together. Dean licked his lips, tasting his and Sam's blood intermingle upon his tongue, the two tastes belonging together. He went back to trailing his hand down Sam's front, finally getting to his destination: Sam's dick. It was slick with pre-cum, making Dean's job much easier. He glided his thumb over the head, Sam quivered at the action. Sam was sprawled on the bed haphazardly, his hands were clenched onto the bed sheet, his back arched, his stomach tightened, his dick painfully awaiting release, and it was all Dean could do not to come from just looking at his brother. He pumped harder, up and down, up and down, not giving Sam time enough to moan, not giving himself time enough to doubt this complex they were creating between themselves. Dean slid his hand down Sam's shaft once more before Sam groaned that he was going to come.

Dean grabbed Sam's hips, pulling him closer, balancing himself, before he thrust weakly and finally came. He swore softly, the word muffled by Sam's heaving back. Dean pulled out and flopped right next to Sam, their sticky thighs touching. Sam rolled over when his breathing went back to normal. His hair was sweat soaked, his face was satisfied. Dean smiled at the prospect and kissed him sloppily- their tongues not even making it to each other's mouths before colliding. When they broke away, Dean spoke:

"Are you done being mad at me now?"

"'Angry with you', you mean?" Sam automatically replied, thumping his thumb against Dean's chest.

"Oh, sorry, College Boy, I MEANT to say, 'are you done throwing a hissy fit?'"

Sam scoffed. "Fuck you. **You** were the one complaining about your chest."

"I believe you took care of that for me. And yes, but I wouldn't have had to complain if you hadn't shot me in the first place," Dean answered, with a smug smile on his face.

They both fell silent, not wishing to break this shared moment of comfort.

"You know I have to leave after we find the demon, right?" Sam spoke up in a small voice.

Dean's eyes softened, not even bothering to hide the immense pain those words gave him. "I know..." There was a pregnant pause, filled with all of the unspoken words they were never going to admit to. Dean was unsure if he really 'knew'. But then he repeated a more confident, "I know", and almost succeeded in fooling Sam.


End file.
